


santa baby

by supremekermit



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, chocolate covered strawberries and pinot noir, excessive mentions of rich people things, jaehyun and jungwoo wear santa dresses, there is no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremekermit/pseuds/supremekermit
Summary: Kun is, according to the Forbes 30 Under 30 list, a billionaire. He’s the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, an infamous investor in some of the world’s biggest tech companies. He owns millions of dollars worth in fine paintings and sculptures, and has never known a shortage of luxury cars with difficult names.Qian Kun, as the world knows, is a very rich, very powerful man.And yet, he falls at the mercy of wine soaked thighs.





	santa baby

There’s little that frustrates Kun more than waking up to a panicked call from Sicheng telling him he has to come to the office, _now_. Now, of course, being the ripe morning before Christmas Eve. It’s a morning he should spend languidly in the arms of his boyfriends, and yet, Kun finds himself disentangling from the sheets, careful to not wake either of them up.

Jungwoo stirs, regardless.

“Where are you going?” he mumbles, one eye still shut as he squints at Kun.

Even with his hair sticking up in opposite directions and pillow marks across his cheeks, Jungwoo is a vision of beauty. Kun’s heart aches as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Jungwoo’s forehead.

“There’s some new bugs in the program that might cause a delay to the launch schedule. I need to go sort things out at the office,” Kun explains. He runs a hand through Jungwoo’s hair and it’s the sound of bliss that the younger makes as he closes his eyes that pulls at Kun’s chest.

“Don’t go,” another sleep-addled voice rumbles. Strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him back down towards the tantalizing warmth of the bed. Jaehyun buries his head in Kun’s neck, nuzzling his skin. “Just stay here.”

He doesn’t want to go. All he wants is an indulgent day in bed with the men he loves most, free of last minute issues with the program or investors or whatever important agenda Sicheng had rattled off on the phone in a single, high-toned breath. (Kun wasn’t the only one who needed a vacation.)

But duty, and the price of maintaining a Fortune 500 company, calls. With great effort, Kun forces himself to wiggle free, already missing the familiar heat of Jaehyun’s skin the moment he takes a step away.

“I promise I’ll be back tonight,” he murmurs. He leans back again to place a gentle kiss on one of Jaehyun’s dimples.

Jaehyun huffs, winding his arms against an already snoozing Jungwoo. “Promise?”

Kun smiles, unable to resist one final kiss. “Promise.”

  
  


When Sicheng told Kun, “There are a few things you need to sort out,” he really meant that are a _multitude_ of meetings for Kun to attend, all of which are equally stress-inducing. He listens to briefs from the engineers, takes calls from concerned investors, and guzzles five cups of coffee. By the time the clock strikes eight, he finally makes it home, letting out an exhausted sigh when the lock clicks open. His fingers jump to loosen his necktie the moment he steps over the threshold.

“Jaehyun?” Kun calls out, toeing off his shoes. “Jungwoo?”

There’s a distinct giggle from the living room, then a scurry of feet. Kun maneuvers from the foyer to the halls, curious as to what his boyfriends could be up to at this hour. A smile works its way up his face as he walks, hungry for the sight of his lovers.

Kun’s briefcase clatters against the shiny hardwood floors.

No amount of anticipation could prepare him for the sight of Jungwoo.

From the first moment Kun had laid eyes on Jungwoo, he knew he was beautiful. Jungwoo’s beauty is as obvious as first-grade arithmetics, a one plus one equation of full lips and big eyes and a smile that should come with a warning label for the side effects it has on Kun’s heart. It’s been three years since then, and yet Kun’s chest never fails to seize when he meets the younger’s eyes.

 _Especially_ when Jungwoo is stretched across the cream leather couch with a teasing smile, his lithe body wrapped in lush, lush maroon.

Kun has never been a man of gasps, but it would a complete and utter lie to say a gasp did not escape his throat.

“You’re home,” Jungwoo says and beckons Kun closer. Even if Jungwoo’s face bears the textbook definition of demure, Kun know it’s a siren’s song.

He steps closer anyways.

“Baby,” Kun exhales the moment he sinks into the plush sofa and Jungwoo swiftly maneuvers to straddle his thighs. His smile is serene, even as his fingers work to unknot Kun’s tie and pop open the top buttons of his collar. He runs his hands under Kun’s jacket, tugging off the expensive navy wool material and discarding it to the side.

“Did everything work out at the company?” Jungwoo hums. His hands smooth over the front of Kun’s shirt, stopping at a smudge of coffee Kun knows will be eviscerated once Jungwoo gets around to doing laundry. The thought is quickly dismissed the moment Jungwoo wiggles around with a pointed look. Kun still hasn’t answered his question.

“Everything is fine now,” Kun says. Everything, of course, certainly does not include Kun’s poor, poor heart because when he looks down, he finally notices the white lace garter peeking out from the short, fluffy hem of Jungwoo’s dress. He trails the floral pattern, down to a matching pair of stockings that hugs Jungwoo’s slender thighs and sharp heeled, sparkly white boots.

There seems to a dearth of oxygen in the room.

Kun tries his best to breathe. “Baby, what’s all this?” He lets his hands settle on Jungwoo’s waist and oh. The dress is velvet.

Jungwoo’s smile widens and the shine of his lips is even more effervescent up close, bathed in the glow of their chandelier. He leans down, until those sparkling lips are mere centimeters from Kun’s ear and whispers, “A present.”

Kun has always known Jungwoo to be an absolute tease. Letting out a groan, he pulls the man closer, close enough to catch his lips and slot their mouths together for a kiss. It ends too soon, because Jungwoo is pulling away, placing a hand on Kun’s chest to hold him in place.

“Not yet.”

If loving Jungwoo has taught him one thing, it’s that patience is a virtue. Thankfully, it’s one that Kun has honed over time. He sits back with a sigh. “Where’s Jaehyun?”

At the mention of their boyfriend, Jungwoo’s eyes light up and even the million dollars worth of Swarovski crystals embedded in the chandelier can’t outshine the twinkle in his eyes. “He’s here.”

Kun looks around, confused. “Where?”

“Jaehyun!”

Kun hears him before he sees him. A familiar click-clicking echoes through the penthouse and then Jaehyun peaks out from the hallway with a shy, dimpled smile.

Kun is not a man of faith. It’s been years since he’s been dragged to Mass, years since he’s sat in the pews and wiggled his feet and waited for the service to be over so he could go home and loosen the starch white collars of his Sunday best. It’s been years since he’s even thought about religion, but right now, sitting on the couch with a beautiful man in his lap and another in front of him, he thinks that maybe, this could be his return to faith.

Jaehyun crosses his legs, ducking his head from Kun’s fervent gaze. “What do you think?”

There’s not enough oxygen left in Kun’s brain for thought. He’s afraid to blink, in fear that this, everything, was nothing but a cruel dream soon to be interrupted by a reminder from Sicheng to wake the fuck up because he has a meeting with a client in five minutes.

Jaehyun is wearing a dress too. Whereas Jungwoo’s featured short sleeves and a high, lace trimmed collar, Jaehyun’s dress bares his shoulders, framing his strong collarbones in a delicate white trim. In place of thin lace stockings, his legs are snug in a pair of black leather boots that cut just short of the hem of his dress.

(Kun recognizes them as the same pair he’d bought Jaehyun on their trip to Italy in the spring.)

And of course, Jaehyun topped it all off with a matching red beret.

“You…” Kun struggles to find the words. It’s his stuttering that makes Jaehyun preen, edging closer as Jungwoo moves away and bounces off to who knows where.

“Am I pretty?” Jaehyun asks as he takes Jungwoo’s place on Kun’s lap. He traces his French manicures across Kun’s jaw, until they make their way to his lips.

“So, so pretty,” Kun murmurs. His hands run up Jaehyun’s sides, roaming and roaming until they reach golden skin. “How can you be this pretty? Do I deserve this?”

Jaehyun laughs, throwing his head back and Kun would like nothing more than to press kisses against that glowing stretch of skin. It’s been a long day, and really, what’s the point of all the beautiful slopes and sharp lines of Jaehyun’s shoulders if he couldn’t reach out and have a taste?

Jaehyun see the way Kun oh-so-subtly licks his lips because he arches back down, wrapping his arms around the elder’s neck. “Of course you do,” he says. With a coy quirk of those plush lips, he angles his neck just right. Kun knows it’s an invitation he can’t not take.

The initial kisses Kun lays on Jaehyun’s skin are reverent in nature. They’re soft and delicate, like the first trickle of snow that falls from the sky, a touch so gentle Jaehyun might as well be kin with prized porcelain. But delicacy is a fool’s game when Jaehyun winds his hands in Kun’s hair and whispers for more, for a lick, for a bite, for a bruise.

When Kun finally takes his first bite, Jaehyun’s moan rings through the spacious room. The breathy sound severs any remnants of Kun’s patience and he gasps into Jaehyun’s skin, eager for more.

They’re interrupted by a click of a tongue.

“I really can’t take either of you anywhere,” Jungwoo mutters with false exasperation. He sets the tray in his hand onto their glass coffee table, and climbs onto the couch, settling next to Kun’s side.

Jaehyun lets out a whine at the absence of Kun’s mouth on his neck and fixes Jungwoo with a pout. Kun can’t help but laugh at the way Jaehyun buries his face Kun’s chest, desperate with want.

With a sigh, Jungwoo bends down to reach for one of the dozen chocolate-covered strawberries that were undoubtedly his own creation. “You’re so impatient, Jaehyunnie. Can we actually stick to the plan for once?”

“There’s a plan?” Kun asks, amused.

Jungwoo nods, face somber. “At least, there _was._ ”

Jaehyun groans. “Fine, _fine_ , we’ll do it your way, Woo.”

Jungwoo’s lips curl into a delicious smile. “Wonderful,” he enunciates, and then Jaehyun is detaching himself from Kun, climbing over to settle on Jungwoo’s lap. Kun would complain at the lack of contact, if not for the look of mischief in Jungwoo’s eyes.

“Watch this.”

Kun’s breathe hitches in anticipation.

Jungwoo wastes no time, taking a bites of the strawberry that dangles between his perfectly manicured finger tips. Then, he cups Jaehyun’s jaw and presses an open mouthed kiss against his lips. To Kun’s absolute detriment, Jaehyun complies, letting Jungwoo push the strawberry bit onto his tongue. They’re a back and forth mess of gasps (and dramatic moans on Jungwoo’s part) and Kun really, truly loses his mind.

When the two pull away, Jaehyun’s eyes are glassy. Jungwoo reaches up to wipe away the smudge of chocolate at the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth and licks at his thumb, all while meeting Kun’s eyes. “How did that taste, Jaehyunnie?”

“Good,” the younger replies in a daze. “Really good.”

“You want to show Kun how good it tastes?” Jungwoo asks, just as demure as if he was asking about the weather.

Jaehyun nods, and Kun gulps. It’s times like these where he can stop to appreciate Jungwoo’s years of musical theater experience, honed from a childhood at a posh boarding school. He possesses, after all, an endless reserve of coquetry.

“Well, you’ve already eaten the other bit, so how about you give him this piece?” Jungwoo brings the leftover strawberry in his hand to Jaehyun’s mouth, careful to pluck off the stem. “Let Kun have a taste.”

The taste, as Kun soon learns, is spectacular. It’s difficult to go wrong with something as simple as chocolate-strawberry, but even then, the smooth, rich flavor of dark chocolate hangs in perfect balance with the sweet burst of strawberry. And then of course, there’s Jaehyun, lapping into Kun’s mouth with breathy sighs, a taste so dizzying it makes Kun’s head spin. He never wants it to stop.

Eventually, Jaehyun pulls away. “Good?”

“Very,” Kun manages to choke out. His strangled voice must be the fuel to his boyfriends’ fire because they share a knowing smile.

“Awesome,” Jaehyun says and promptly climbs off Kun’s lap.

Confusion floods his system. “What-”

“Let’s drink the wine.” Jungwoo reaches out for the bottle atop the table and pours out the deep red liquid into the three glasses he had set out. “I didn’t open the Pinot Noir for nothing.”

He passes a glasses to Kun, then Jaehyun, before settling down with his own. In the background, a jazz number begins to play, no doubt automated by the click of the remote in Jungwoo’s hand. He swirls the glass and takes a small sip, delighted.

“This reminds me of Paris last summer,” he says dreamily and Jaehyun nods. Kun finds himself nodding along as well, even as his mind attempts to wrap around whatever the fuck went down in the past twenty minutes.

“Speaking of Paris, my publicist said that I might have a few signing events there for the new book in February,” Jaehyun mentions. He turns to Kun with a hopeful smile. “We should go and spend the week there for Valentine’s.”

Valentine’s was two whole months away, and Kun has no idea why they have to bring this up right _now_ , when heat is still pooling in his stomach and the threads of his sanity are on the verge of snapping. He takes a sip of wine, for composure purposes. “Sure.”

Jaehyun lets out a laugh of excitement, bouncing up and wrapping Kun in a hug. “Did you hear that, Woo? We’re going to Paris again!”

In his bout of joy, Jaehyun nearly manhandles Kun off the couch and the wine glass in Kun’s hand tips. He doesn’t realize the consequences of the action until an audible gasp punctures the air.

The thing about a glass full of Pinot Noir is that when it spills, it goes everywhere. Everywhere, from the couch to the floor to the vintage throw pillow they’d acquired from a nice little shop in Provence and most importantly, to the stockings that hug Jungwoo’s thighs. The liquid seeps, red staining where there was once pure, white lace.

Kun jolts up, shaking away his split second of mesmerization. “Hold on a second Woo, I’ll go grab a napkin-”

A hand latches onto Kun’s arm. “Wait.”

The second Kun looks down into Jungwoo’s sparkling eyes, he comes to a realization that is his fate is no wiser than the fate of drunken sailors who brave the winds in pursuit of a haunting melody, only to meet their demise in the cold, unforgiving sea.

In the end, this is a trap.

“There’s another way you could clean me up.”

There was never a choice for Kun to make. This is the truth that he swallows when he sees the gleeful smile that spreads across Jaehyun’s lips and the younger steps closer, pushing him to his knees.

This is the end, and it’s everything Kun could have ever wanted.

Jaehyun drops to the floor beside him, purring when Jungwoo reaches to stroke the purple blooming where Kun had left his mark.  “You know, this is some rather _expensive_ wine. It would be a shame to let any drop go to waste.”

Kun is, according to the Forbes 30 Under 30 list, a billionaire. He’s the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, an infamous investor in some of the world’s biggest tech companies. He owns millions of dollars worth in fine paintings and sculptures, and has never known a shortage of luxury cars with names that are difficult to spell. Qian Kun, as the world knows, is a very rich, very powerful man.

And yet, he falls at the mercy of wine soaked thighs.

His first lick is tentative, hesitant. The lace is rough under his tongue, and he can taste the crisp berry of the wine, just as exquisite as it was from glass. Perhaps moreso, if the gasp from Jungwoo is anything to go by.

This was a game Kun could play at after all.

With the wheels turning in his head, he turns to Jaehyun. For a moment, Jaehyun stares back in confusion, before he catches the look in Kun’s eyes and everything clicks. He smiles, dimples flashing.

Two could play at this game.

Jungwoo, bless his scheming soul, only realizes the fatal flaw in his tactic when there are two mouths lapping against his skin, one for each lace-covered thigh.

“What-”

He squirms to no avail, as strong hands hold down his thighs, spreading them to make room for the two men in between. Kun laughs into soft expanse of Jungwoo’s thigh, pressing kisses higher and higher. Meanwhile, Jaehyun, ever persistent, sucks at a particularly drenched spot.

Cursing, Jungwoo’s fingers find purchase Jaehyun’s hair, just in time for Kun’s teeth to catch on the garter and slip it down, past his knees and onto the ground. He whines, something about the cost of the stitching, but his words quickly halt the moment Kun rises up to press a kiss against his lips.

“Ready to give up?” Kun murmurs, the words ghosting over the shell of Jungwoo’s ear.

The expression that first crosses Jungwoo’s face is one of protest, but it falls away when Jaehyun bites at a deliciously sensitive spot.

“Fine,” Jungwoo gasps and Kun knows that he’s won this game.

  
  


There’s little that Kun loves more than waking up on Christmas Day between the loves of his life, tangled in a mess of limbs and silk sheets. If he was being sappy, he would say something about the ringing of the Christmas bells from the streets, but in reality, they live on the 15th story and the windows of the penthouse are soundproof.

Still, no lack of holiday bells can spoil the absolute elation Kun experiences when he realizes that he had a whole day to spend in the arms of Jungwoo and Jaehyun. Maybe they could order some takeout and marathon old cartoons, or sit around the tree and open the thirty-seven presents Jungwoo had meticulously gift-wrapped, or dress up for that nice three star Michelin restaurant that Jaehyun had raved about, or—

“Can we _please_ have some more beauty sleep?” Jungwoo mutters. He shifts, snuggling his head against Kun’s chest. “Don’t tell me you have to go somewhere again.”

Beside Kun, Jaehyun is sound asleep but the words draw his arms tight around Kun’s waist. His eyebrows scrunch, unconsciously. Kun can’t resist the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, softening the lines.

He smiles down at Jungwoo. “Don’t worry, Woo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Appeased, Jungwoo closes his eyes. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Kun laughs softly, and pulls his boyfriends closer.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

 

 

 

(“I think we need to buy a new couch,” Kun says later, chewing thoughtfully around of a mouth full of pancakes. “All the wine ruined the leather.”

Jaehyun raises his head to give Jungwoo a pointed look.

The youngest stops from where he’s adjusting the glass ornaments on the Christmas tree to turn around with a serene smile. “What if I told you I already bought a _lovely_ new couch last week and I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring it in?”

Kun sighs. He never wins.)

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas! nothing says ending the year quite like writing the thirstiest thing to have ever graced my drafts!
> 
> come to talk to me about jaekunwoo's vacation to paris where jaewoo inevitably buy out a whole antiques shop and kun hands over his black card with a loving sigh on:
> 
>  
> 
> [concrit station](https://supremekermit.dreamwidth.org/278.html) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/haetelier)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/haetelier)


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